A crazy question just popped into my head, "Do you have a reservoir dog?" A reservoir bitch, if you're a lad. I really cannot explain it plainly. But you know how pathetic people say to other pathetic people that if at a certain age and they don't still get to find the stupid love of their life, then they'll be each other's? That's sort of what I mean with the reservoir thing. I hope you get it somehow.
I don't understand it, though. Because first and foremost, why? What if only the other person remains super unlucky for the rest of his/her life and the other one is able to live happily ever after? Wouldn't that be the most unfair of all unfair things? You both agreed on one thing but, in the future, the other one will most likely be happily enjoying his/her life with whoever the fuck that would be. I say you are both fools if you agree on being each other's reservoirs, in the first place. (Sorry if you're one of them.)
Why the question? Nothing in particular. It's just one of those times when you're confined in your room and you have all the tendencies to feel crappy or, worse, insignificant. Not to mention this ridiculous intermittent fever I've been having for the past few days, three helpless days to be exact.
Because to answer the question: no. I don't have a reservoir dog. #1, I haven't reached that level of being pathetic (yet — but God, I hope I don't do anytime soon). Although one time, a boy once told me that if I turn 30 and still haven't married, then he'll tie the knot with me. Of course, I didn't agree. Maybe he thought he was just being hopelessly romantic but no way I was going to grant him that fantasy / privilege / whatever. You work for it. #2, I don't think it's necessary. It's just like finding love in all the wrong places. But for this one, I don't want to dig deeper.
So, how about turning it into a statement?
"I'm not your reservoir, dog."
Alright, I'm out.
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dan
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November 24, 2012 at 1:14 AM
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Unknown
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April 7, 2013 at 10:06 PM
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A crazy question just popped into my head, "Do you have a reservoir dog?" A reservoir bitch, if you're a lad. I really cannot explain it plainly. But you know how pathetic people say to other pathetic people that if at a certain age and they don't still get to find the stupid love of their life, then they'll be each other's? That's sort of what I mean with the reservoir thing. I hope you get it somehow.
I don't understand it, though. Because first and foremost, why? What if only the other person remains super unlucky for the rest of his/her life and the other one is able to live happily ever after? Wouldn't that be the most unfair of all unfair things? You both agreed on one thing but, in the future, the other one will most likely be happily enjoying his/her life with whoever the fuck that would be. I say you are both fools if you agree on being each other's reservoirs, in the first place. (Sorry if you're one of them.)
Why the question? Nothing in particular. It's just one of those times when you're confined in your room and you have all the tendencies to feel crappy or, worse, insignificant. Not to mention this ridiculous intermittent fever I've been having for the past few days, three helpless days to be exact.
Because to answer the question: no. I don't have a reservoir dog. #1, I haven't reached that level of being pathetic (yet — but God, I hope I don't do anytime soon). Although one time, a boy once told me that if I turn 30 and still haven't married, then he'll tie the knot with me. Of course, I didn't agree. Maybe he thought he was just being hopelessly romantic but no way I was going to grant him that fantasy / privilege / whatever. You work for it. #2, I don't think it's necessary. It's just like finding love in all the wrong places. But for this one, I don't want to dig deeper.
So, how about turning it into a statement?
"I'm not your reservoir, dog."
Alright, I'm out.
I don't understand it, though. Because first and foremost, why? What if only the other person remains super unlucky for the rest of his/her life and the other one is able to live happily ever after? Wouldn't that be the most unfair of all unfair things? You both agreed on one thing but, in the future, the other one will most likely be happily enjoying his/her life with whoever the fuck that would be. I say you are both fools if you agree on being each other's reservoirs, in the first place. (Sorry if you're one of them.)
Why the question? Nothing in particular. It's just one of those times when you're confined in your room and you have all the tendencies to feel crappy or, worse, insignificant. Not to mention this ridiculous intermittent fever I've been having for the past few days, three helpless days to be exact.
Because to answer the question: no. I don't have a reservoir dog. #1, I haven't reached that level of being pathetic (yet — but God, I hope I don't do anytime soon). Although one time, a boy once told me that if I turn 30 and still haven't married, then he'll tie the knot with me. Of course, I didn't agree. Maybe he thought he was just being hopelessly romantic but no way I was going to grant him that fantasy / privilege / whatever. You work for it. #2, I don't think it's necessary. It's just like finding love in all the wrong places. But for this one, I don't want to dig deeper.
So, how about turning it into a statement?
"I'm not your reservoir, dog."
Alright, I'm out.
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Born in the mid-80s, Erin Herøin is a marveller of non-sequitur writing, cinematic films, & analogue photography.
Before, she used to be an aspiring physician; now, she is a newbie bassist who has 5.50/5.00 eyes & black tattoos on her right arm.
She's the former chief editor of Lomography's international magazine, the founder of Whilst We Wait, & the author of Paranoirexia.
Today, she curates and directs Parallel Planets, an online publication on creatives worldwide.
She dwells in the Eastern border of Manila with her pet pussies.
Before, she used to be an aspiring physician; now, she is a newbie bassist who has 5.50/5.00 eyes & black tattoos on her right arm.
She's the former chief editor of Lomography's international magazine, the founder of Whilst We Wait, & the author of Paranoirexia.
Today, she curates and directs Parallel Planets, an online publication on creatives worldwide.
She dwells in the Eastern border of Manila with her pet pussies.
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